


Maniacal Assailants and Misdirected Aggression

by Closeted_Bookworm



Series: Cool Powers and Calamitous Instincts (Tethered Spirits AU) [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alter Egos, Ethan Nestor Egos, Gen, Mark Fischbach Egos, Possession, Spirits, mild body horror, mild violence, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closeted_Bookworm/pseuds/Closeted_Bookworm
Summary: Several months have passed since Ethan and Blank merged, and they've adjusted pretty well. It's hard for Mark to live a normal life, though, when some of his spirits have such destructive powers. Sometimes they take over without warning...
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson
Series: Cool Powers and Calamitous Instincts (Tethered Spirits AU) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851082
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	Maniacal Assailants and Misdirected Aggression

**Author's Note:**

> Hey now, don't try it at home, hey now, don't try it, don't you dare try it:
> 
> Mark and Ethan are naughty in this story and don't social distance. Be responsible people ;)
> 
> oH, iT's a KeY cHanGE!
> 
> Also, this is a sequel. It's going to make zero sense if you haven't read the first one, fair warning.

Ethan anxiously bit his lip as he punched Mark’s contact for the third time that morning, wondering what on earth would have made him miss their scheduled video call that morning. They were supposed to film another batch of quarantine videos for Unus Annus, but he hadn’t picked up, and that had been two hours ago. Mark _never_ missed things without a good reason, and he always texted beforehand to say he couldn’t make it. To say that Ethan was worried would be an understatement. If it had been anyone else, he might not be reacting this way, but the added factor of their tethered spirits made any extended silence from Mark all the more nerve-wracking for Ethan. He felt Blank shifting in the back of his mind, pushing out some reassurance, and he took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. 

The phone rang and rang, then connected to the answering machine. He frustratedly hung up before it could tell him to leave a message, having already left one an hour earlier the first time he called. He really wanted to go over to Mark’s house to check on him, but with social distancing in effect, that wasn’t really an option. They both had been in quarantine for more than a month now; there was next to zero chance either of them had corona virus, but safe was better than sorry. 

He stared at the screen in frustration, silently willing a call to pop up on the screen, but that was wishful thinking. All he could do was wait in the dark for him to pick up his phone. He aimlessly scrolled through his contact list, trying to get his mind onto a less stressful train of thought, and stopped on Amy’s number.

_Of course,_ he thought, slapping his forehead at his own stupidity. He could call Amy, and she’d get Mark on the phone. He tapped the number, fingers rapping on the tabletop as it dialed. On the fourth ring, she picked up, and he sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness. Hey, Amy. Is Mark home?”

“Hey, Ethan. He’s been upstairs recording stuff for the last several hours. Wasn’t that supposed to be with you?”

“Yeah, but he never called or texted, and he won’t pick up his phone. Would you go upstairs and get him so I can talk to him?”

“Yeah, no problem. That’s weird, usually he doesn’t miss calls.”

“That’s what I thought. He at least texts. I was kind of worried, what with the spirits and all…” He gave a chuckle. His anxiety felt silly now that he was talking to Amy. Mark was fine. He probably forgot they were filming in the morning instead of the evening, and he was overreacting for nothing. 

“Yeah, sorry to worry you. I’m getting him now.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I just wanted to make sure he was all right.”

“While I’ve got you on the phone, I had a question about what you guys want to do when quarantine ends…”

He could hear the echo in her voice changing as she walked up the stairs toward Mark’s recording room, and the creak of the door as she poked her head into the room. 

“Mark, are you- Oh my goodness, what’s wrong? What’re you-” A shriek pierced his eardrums, and he dropped his phone, ears ringing. He scrambled to catch it with trembling hands and slammed it back to his ear as Blank snapped into hyper-awareness and flooded his brain with alarm. 

“Amy? Mark? What’s wrong? Are you there?”

There was nothing but silence on the other end. Awful, dead sounding silence, the slight crackle of static from the phone the only noise he could hear as he waited with bated breath for a response. He didn’t get any.

“Guys?” No reply. “I’m coming, okay? Hold on until I get there!”

Someone on the other end hung up the call. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and snatched his car keys off the counter as he dashed out of the room, barely pausing to stuff his feet into two different shoes before he was out the door and gone. 

His mind raced as he turned the key in the ignition, jumping from one terrible possibility to the next, each one adding another drop to his already overflowing cup of nerves. Blank shifted in the back of his mind and sent a wave of shaky calm forward, but it flew unheeded over his head. He pressed the gas, but the emergency brake squealed in protest, and he nearly screamed with frustration as he disengaged it and finally got the car moving. He peeled out of the driveway and sped towards Mark and Amy’s house, going ten over the speed limit the entire way. 

What had happened? Was Dark back? Was it a different spirit? He still didn’t know much about most of the others, Mark had been fairly tight-lipped even after Blank showed up and his secret came to light. He went over what he knew about Mark’s spirits as he sped down the highway, trying to guess which one it would be. 

Dark could shapeshift and was the most powerful of all of them. Ethan sincerely hoped he had not taken back control, even though Blank’s power had mellowed him considerably. Dr. Iplier, the healer, wasn’t malicious, he wouldn’t be the issue. King of the Squirrels and Silver Shepherd were off the table too, they were on Mark’s side. He wracked his brain, trying to remember others. Mark had mentioned one named The Host, who had X-ray vision, but Ethan didn’t know anything about his temperament or morals. It could be him. Illinois had the ability to phase through small objects and an incredibly reckless attitude, but Ethan couldn't see him posing a serious threat. 

Another name jumped to mind, and he cursed under his breath. If Yandere had taken control, he was in serious trouble. Mark had described him as the most violent and bloodthirsty of all his spirits, even if his power to extinguish small flames was pretty weak. He pressed down harder on the gas pedal, silently pleading that Amy was unhurt. 

He arrived at Mark’s house in record time, barely slowing down enough to turn into the driveway and prompting a small jump in fear from Blank as the car tires lost traction for a moment. As he ran up to the front door, a few words surfaced from his subconscious. 

_I’ll be safer,_ his spirit told him.

_I’m going,_ he thought back. _You’re not taking over._

He dug the key out from under the mat and unlocked the door, ready to sprint up the stairs immediately, but an overwhelming wave of cautiousness swept through his mind from Blank, so he paused and thought logically about the situation. If a dangerous spirit was upstairs, barging in wouldn’t be the best idea.

_I’ll help,_ whispered Blank. 

_Okay,_ Ethan conceded. He should have his power ready to go. _Stop talking, though. I know it takes a lot out of you._

Blank didn’t respond. He closed his eyes, finding and digging into the dark violet energy that awakened his ability. His hair lengthened down to his shoulders and a single half-moon scar appeared on his left cheek as he channeled the spirit, and he cleared his throat as he felt it fill with honey-sweet power. Tapping into Blank’s energy meant that he could use a diluted version of the spirit’s magical voice control, meaning that he was very persuasive if he was trying to be. Maybe he could talk down whatever spirit was controlling Mark. 

He crept softly up the stairs, heart pounding and Blank roiling with nerves in the back of his mind. The door to the recording room was cracked open, and it was deathly silent. Had Mark left the house? 

He approached the doorway, moving at a snail’s pace and carefully stepping over the creaky floorboard in the center of the hallway. He stuck out a single finger and pushed the door open wider, stepping through with his fists clenched and power at the ready. 

The first thing he saw was Amy, her phone lying smashed on the ground next to her. She was sprawled face down on the floor just inside the door, and he bit back a gasp as he noticed a small red stain spreading from under her face. She wasn’t moving. _Only a nosebleed,_ he forced himself to think. _Nosebleed from the fall._ Where was Mark? He took another step into the room, and his gaze fell on a small figure curled into a tight ball in the corner. All he could see was black hair tipped with sandy blond and quivering shoulders as he hid as much of himself as he could with his arms and legs. He had the same build as Mark, but on a smaller scale. It had to be a spirit form. But which one was it? This silently terrified entity couldn’t be Yandere, thank goodness, but that also meant he had no idea what he was dealing with. 

Ethan knelt down on the floor, composing his face so he looked as non-threatening as possible, and cleared his throat. The spirit’s head shot up at the noise, revealing a face that looked more human than any spirit he’d seen so far. He looked _exactly_ like Mark, with one key difference. As he looked up, his ears came into view, long and narrow and covered in soft, feathery hair. They twitched and waved, combing through the air like foot-long antennae. He stared at Ethan with big, scared eyes, knees clutched to his chest and trembling from head to toe. It was going to be a challenge not to make him more scared than he already was. 

“Hello,” he said cheerfully, and the spirit jumped like he’d been shocked. He pointed a shaking finger at Ethan.

“My name’s Ethurghhh-” He clutched his throat. A horribly painful tickling sensation spread up his chest, and he choked, hacking coughs seizing his body but refusing to make it into the open air. It felt like his throat was on fire. He tried to yell, but he couldn’t. Something was crawling up his throat and into his mouth, long tendrils curling around and constricting his tongue. He couldn’t _breathe._ The spirit was staring at him in horror, hand still stretched out in a point, watching as he grabbed frantically at the green-brown strands poking out from between his lips, trying to rip them out of his throat as his chest started to tighten up and his oxygen supply depleted. Thin strands broke off in his fingers, but he couldn’t rid himself of the horrid sensation of suffocating. His pulse pounded in his ears as he fought to draw a breath, collapsing to the floor. Blank was thrashing around in an absolute panic from his subconscious, throwing himself against the mental blocks preventing him from taking over, and Ethan tore them down with a single burst of mental effort as black spots started appearing in his vision. Blank invaded the front of his mind faster than he could register it happening, throwing him into the subconscious as his body changed forms faster than it ever had before. 

His hair grew long enough to reach his feet in a matter of seconds, and the other scar burned itself into his cheek before he could even blink the inky tears out of his eyes. The living tendrils of hair whipped around like a whirlwind as his fear affected them, and Blank grabbed a handful and stuffed them into his mouth, feeling the awful constricting vines defending themselves against the intrusive strands as the hair worked it’s way down his throat and wrapped itself around the choking plant blocking his windpipe. He braced himself as his hair yanked at the vines, tearing them out of his throat and flinging them across the room. Pain exploded in his neck as the abrasive tendrils were dislodged, but he could _breathe_ again. He dragged in air as the spots receded from his vision, noisy, haggard coughs racking his body. 

Fabric in front of him rustled, and he managed a single word, “Don’t.”

He glanced up, heaving raggedly, to see the spirit frozen halfway through the act of pointing, shaking like a leaf and tears streaming down his face as his ears pressed themselves flat to the side of his head. Blank pushed himself upright, glaring at the abhorrent bundle of vines that tried to choke the life out of him. His gaze landed on Amy, still unconscious on the carpet beside him, and he drew in a sharp breath. 

“Stay still,” he commanded Mark's spirit with roughed-up vocal chords as he rushed over to her, grabbing her shoulders and flipping her over. He reeled back in shock. Her mouth was tightly sewn shut by brown vines, scarlet blood staining her lips and cheeks as it leaked sluggishly from the punctures made by the plant. Ethan flipped in terror from the back of his mind, and he grabbed her wrist, feeling for a pulse. It throbbed faintly under his fingers as he pressed down on the artery, and relief flooded through him, followed closely by hot anger. He rounded on Mark’s spirit with fire in his eyes, and the entity flinched, eyes locked on Amy’s mouth and pale as a ghost. 

“Let Mark out _now,_ ” he said through gritted teeth. The spirit pressed his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, looking like he was hyperventilating.

“D-don’t know how,” he squeaked out, barely audible. He was tearing at his hair now, so obviously terrified that Blank tried to quell some of the rage rolling off him in waves. He wasn’t going to make any headway here if this spirit was scared out of his mind. His sixth sense told him this spirit was only marginally older than he was; Mark was probably his first host. 

“What’s your name?” He asked in a marginally calmer voice, anger still simmering under the surface but trying to keep it together so he could get Mark back in control.

“T-t-too loud,” he whispered, pressing his hands back to his ears and making himself as small as possible. Blank almost growled in frustration, but he dropped his voice down to a whisper. 

“What is your name?”

“Eric. H-h-help me.”

Blank’s fury was ebbing. It appeared that Eric had ultra-sensitive hearing, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt anyone. That didn’t change the fact that he had, but he mostly seemed like he was lashing out to protect himself. Ethan radiated agreement, and though anger from both of them was still there, he tried a more sympathetic approach, carefully moving closer to the other spirit. 

“Calm down a little, yeah?” he murmured. “Think about Mark for me.”

“M-mark,” he whimpered, eyes still shut tight. 

Blank tried to think about what it was like for him to give control to his host. “Can you picture him?”

A tiny nod.

“Think of that picture and then try to find him in your mind. You should be able to do that.”

“C-can’t. Too much b-banging.”

“Then think about the banging. Now think about taking away the thing they’re banging on.”

Eric sucked in a breath and his knuckles turned white as he clenched them, but his ears started to shrink, his body inflating back to its normal size. It didn't stop where he thought it would, though. His torso stayed narrow and thin as he grew back to his normal height, and his hair started to grow out past his ears, twisting itself into twin pigtails as his skin darkened to a rusty red color. Ethan turned a cartwheel of fear in his head, and Blank scrambled to his feet and dashed towards the door. He knew where this was going. He slammed the door shut and hung onto the handle as a hysterical giggling echoed from inside the room. The door shook as the new spirit on the other side tried to tug it open, but Blank braced his feet against the doorframe and held it closed. 

“Come say hi to Yandere, dear!” a sing-songy voice called, hysterical laughter ringing through the air as he worked to pry the door open.

The two spirits were equally matched in strength, but Blank’s throat was burning every time he inhaled, and he still needed to get Mark back in control. He felt Ethan pushing against his barriers, and a single word exploded into his mind. _Amy._ The color drained from his face. She was unconscious. As soon as Yandere properly looked at his surroundings, she would be in danger. Time for a change of plans. He let go of the doorknob and raced down the hallway, the door banging open behind him as his pursuer sprinted after him. He darted down the stairs and dashed into the living room, realizing how poorly thought out this plan was the instant he saw the dead end he’d run into. Biting pain stung his throat, and he bent double as another round of coughing started. Yandere skidded into the room a moment later, laughing with glee when he saw he was cornered. He cracked his knuckles and stalked towards him, and Blank tried to tell him to stop, but the words caught on his tongue and died stillborn as he struggled to take pained breaths. 

Yandere lunged at him and tackled him to the floor, and the two wrestled together, Blank fighting almost entirely defensively as he struggled to get his breath back. His hair cracked against the other spirit’s back like whips, but the cackling spirit barely registered the assault, using his opponent’s temporary weakness to get him pinned and press a constricting hand to his windpipe. Blank started to panic as his air supply was closed off again, pulling feebly at Yandere’s arm, but the other wouldn’t budge. 

“Shh, it’s all right,” he giggled. “Just a little longer and then we can have some fun. I’ve waited for so-” His voice stuttered out and he flinched, the pressure lessening enough for Blank to push him off and crawl weakly away as Yandere clutched at his head, moaning in pain. “Stop it!” he yelled. “No, I won’t go back in…” His skin was starting to lose its red color, lightening to a dusty silver as his hair receded back into his scalp. He screamed in frustration as his body turned silver and twin black marks shaped like footballs appeared around his eyes, his torso broadening and returning to its usual proportions. The scream broke off as the new spirit straightened up, pitch black eyes appraising the state Blank was in as he tried to get himself away from the new entity, hair trailing limply behind him. 

He was exhausted and in pain. He’d been choked out twice in one day and defended himself against two other spirits, he didn’t have enough energy to fight a third. He laid down on his back and closed his eyes, letting Ethan take control and resigning himself to whatever this new spirit wanted to do with him. His hair shrank back into his head and the scars on his cheeks repaired themselves, and he slipped back into the subconscious to recover. 

Ethan opened his eyes to see Mark’s spirit, presumably Silver Shepherd, standing over him, holding out his hand. He stared dazedly up at him for a moment, returning to his own body, and then the pain slammed into him, taking his breath away as his throat erupted with sharp hurt and his shoulder throbbed where Yandere had slammed him into the ground. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he stuck out a hand and let the entity help him to his feet. Silver slapped him on the back, prompting a pained yelp. 

“Good show, my man,” he said as Ethan collapsed onto the couch. “Glad I could make it in time to help, but I must be going. You’ll be wanting Mark back.”

Ethan nodded slowly, mustering up a faltering, “Thank you.” 

The metallic shine drained out of Silver’s skin and the dark mask faded as Mark took back control. His friend was on him as soon as he was himself again, hugging him and asking if he was okay. Ethan waved him off the best he could, his breath finally coming back in full as the adrenaline worked itself out of his system. Mark suddenly froze as he remembered the rest of the events from upstairs, then he ran from the room, sprinting up the stairs as Ethan dragged himself up and followed as fast as he could. 

Mark ran into the recording studio just as Amy started stirring, staring confusedly at the room around her as she sat up and gingerly touching her lips, where only a few scabbed over wounds could be found, the vines having vanished without a trace. He cried out in relief and crushed her in a hug, apologizing over and over again. She assured him it wasn’t his fault and that she was going to be okay, looking like a bad ventriloquist as she tried not to move her damaged lips. Ethan arrived at the top of the stairs, leaning on the door frame and trying to suppress the tickling in his throat, and Amy worriedly asked what had happened. They took turns explaining everything, Ethan talking as little as he could and Mark apologizing after almost every sentence. 

Apparently Mark had tripped and hit his head on the corner of his desk while setting up to record that morning, and somehow Eric had been the one to take control of his body when he fell unconscious. He was so terrified and overwhelmed by the real world after being in Mark’s head for so long that he freaked out and prevented any other spirit from reclaiming control, then attacked Amy when she startled him. 

“I don’t think he knows anything about how to control his powers,” Mark said. “He’s very young, and was nervous to begin with. I think his abilities scare him. I’m really sorry, guys.”

“He didn’t do any permanent damage,” Ethan said raspily. “And Blank keeps telling me the wounds won’t scar because of some spirit nonsense. My voice will be fine in a couple days.” 

“There is this,” Amy said, holding up her broken phone, “but I’ve got data backups of almost everything.”

“Ethan, do you want to stay here for a couple hours before going back home?” Mark asked. He nodded gratefully.

“Do you have some painkillers?” he asked hoarsely. 

“Yeah, of course. Amy, we need to get your injuries cleaned up too. Is the first aid kit still in the cabinet downstairs?”

“Should be.”

As they left the room to go get it, Mark pulled Ethan into another tight hug.

“Social distancing, remember?” he joked weakly. A laugh rumbled through Mark’s chest. 

“I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t showed up,” he said, “and I repaid you by wrecking your voice and football tackling you. Thank you and sorry don’t do it justice.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Ethan replied. “You already did, in fact. What’re friends for?”

“Normal friends don’t fight homicidal spirits for each other.”

“Since when were we normal?”

“Fair point.”

“Just promise never to let Yandere out on purpose, and we’re square. I lo-” He broke into coughing. “Sorry. I love you, man.”

“I love you too. Don’t worry, Yandere is staying stuck in my head as long as I have anything to say about it.” He ended the hug and ruffled Ethan’s hair, and the other man giggled raggedly. “Let's go get you some water and meds.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you can, I love reading comments, even if it's been a while since the fic was published. :)


End file.
